


Drowning Dry

by orphan_account



Category: Subnautica (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Risk Aware Consensual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 23:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18324527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ryley has an unconventional request for Avery.





	Drowning Dry

**Author's Note:**

> AU - the Sunbeam arrives after the QEP is shut off.

"I don't like this," Avery says.

Ryley nods, head down, fingers locked together. "I know it's risky," he agrees, "But I think it'd help. With - you know -"

"The nightmares." Nodding, Avery reaches for Ryley's hands, gently unlocks his knotted fingers. "I'm just not sure _how_ it'd help. Dreaming about drowning, so you _want_ to be, uh..."

A wry smile crosses Ryley's face. "Suffocated. Asphyxiated. Whatever you want to call it." He squeezes Avery's hand, a quick, anxious gesture. "It's not the asphyxiation. It's the breathing again afterwards."

Avery remains silent. Watching, listening, like he wants and needs to understand. Ryley lets out a sigh, hyper-conscious of the breath passing his lips.

"I nearly suffocated so many times on that planet," he says quietly, and his chest tightens just in memory. "Not just from nearly drowning more times than I can count. I nearly died of smoke inhalation in the lifepod. The illness attacked my lungs. When I have those nightmares, _I can't breathe_."

"But if we do... this," Avery says as realization dawns on him, "You'd be able to mimic not being able to breathe, but you'd also have the relief of being able to after it?"

Silently, Ryley nods.

He dreams about being underwater, of the surface being too far out of reach as his oxygen ticks down. _We're drowning, real slow._ Reaching skyward, but never able to get there in time, feeling the world close in on him and his vision drawing dark. When he wakes, it's to gasping, coughing, suffocating even in the safety of the Sunbeam; Avery rubbing his back and telling him to _breathe, just breathe_.

He wants it to end. He wants to grab his experiences and shake them, to tell them that they have no power over him any more. Avery has already saved his life; he can't think of anyone he trusts more to heal him this way, too.

"I think I understand," Avery says softly, pressing a delicate kiss to Ryley's lips, "How, uh, do you want to do this?"

Ryley swallows roughly. He half hadn't expected to get this far. "Not choking. I think... if you put your hand over my mouth and hold my nose shut?" The words trip from his tongue. "And I can tap the back of your hand twice when I need you to let go."

Avery exhales, and Ryley finds himself watching the movement in fascination, the part of his lips, the way his chest moves. "Okay," he says, "Okay. If you need to stop for whatever the reason, just let me know and we can call the whole thing off." He kisses him again, then murmurs against Ryley's lips, "I hope this helps."

"No good without the bad, no bad without the good, right?" Ryley smiles, "This might be the good I need to deal with the bad."

"I said that, didn't I?" Avery says, and laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Thank you, Avery."

He has his hands around Avery's, guiding him back to the bed even as he crushes their lips back together. When he feels the backs of his legs hit the frame, he tugs, pulls Avery down on top of him even as he doesn't end the kiss.

Avery breathes in sharply through his nose. Ryley does not, keeps going, pushes further until he can feel the edge of lightheadedness and breaking off with a gasping laugh.

"Already starting it?" Avery murmurs, his attention on ridding them both of their clothes, "I gotta say, that's one method of suffocating yourself."

"Not the same." Ryley lifts his hips to allow Avery to strip him, propping himself up on his elbows and hiding a smile at the naked hunger Avery can't quite hide. "I want it to be... out of my control, I guess. I want it to be in your hands. I trust you."

Avery watches him wordlessly for a long moment, then kisses him again.

It's fierce, this time. There's teeth in it, and Ryley pushes back, turns it into a call and response. Avery cups the back of his head, pushing his fingers through his hair; presses their lips together again and uses his other hand to pinch Ryley's nose shut.

He groans jaggedly, trying to push eagerly into the kiss. With one hand, he gropes blindly for the nightstand to find the lubricant, and with the other, he trails his fingertips down Avery's chest, stomach, starts stroking him into hardness.

Avery breaks the kiss, and both pause to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together. Avery's eyes are closed; Ryley watches him, watches his lips, and bites his own.

"Can't hold my breath that long, myself," Avery says wryly, then pushes lightly at Ryley's shoulder. "So my hand is it. On your back. Spread your legs."

Ryley hits the mattress so fast he almost knocks back out what little breath he's regained, and grins at the irony.

He likes Avery's hands. Has since the rescue, with Avery's outstretched hand being the first sign of humanity he had seen in months. They're good hands, strong, long fingers. There are calluses on the tips that he can feel as Avery pushes one of his legs back, catches his breath at the light pinch he delivers to the inside of Ryley's thigh before his hand withdraws briefly to reach for the lubricant.

Ryley certainly likes Avery's hands now, spreading him open, fucking him with long fingers with one hand, the other closing over Ryley's mouth.

"Just your mouth for now," he murmurs, curling the fingers of the other hand; Ryley moans against his skin. "I want to have my full attention on you."

Ryley can't really nod with Avery's hand over his mouth. Murmurs a breathy, "Mm-hmm!" against his skin instead, and concentrates on trying not to breathe in too much with his nose.

It's tricky. His lungs wants to stutter and huff as Avery prepares him, little puffs against his hand. It's automatic, autonomic, his lungs craving air; it's a learned response after months in the ocean that he is always, _always_ going to try to breathe.

Avery is going to stop him from doing that, and then he's going to let him start again. Ryley's heart is already racing, both at the reduced air and at the anticipation.

When Avery does push inside him, joins their bodies together, he lifts his hand and Ryley inhales hard, pulling air back into his sore lungs and letting it out in a soft moan. It's a tease, the hand just over his mouth. Preparation, anticipation. Avery is leaning over him, cleaning his hand off with sterile wipes, gazing down at Ryley like he's a mystery to be solved.

Ryley tightens his legs around Avery's waist and murmurs, "Please."

Briefly, Avery closes his eyes. "Okay," he says, reaching out to cup Ryley's cheek affectionately. "If you're ready."

Ryley turns to his hand, nuzzles it, presses a kiss to the palm, and repeats, "Please. I am. _Please_."

Avery presses his hand over Ryley's mouth and pinches his nose shut, and Ryley instinctively tries to breathe in and finds he can't.

It's different, this total lack of access to air. Before, with the kisses, with just his mouth covered, he could pull in just enough air to keep himself in control, keep himself calm; now, that is totally taken from him and he's already seeing stars.

He's underwater, five hundred metres of black ocean above his head, oxygen meter ticking down and only his dive suit stopping the water from crushing the air from his lungs anyway.

He's in the lifepod, lungs full of smoke, harness crushing him against the chair. Around him are his dead and dying friends, but he can't know that yet, can't know anything other than the spots dancing in front of his eyes and the fire extinguisher just out of reach.

He's in his base, hundreds of metres of water above his air-filled bubble, suffocating anyway through the infection destroying his lungs.

He's here, on the Sunbeam, in Avery's bed, Avery fucking him, Avery covering his mouth and holding his nose shut, and air is just a tap away.

Ryley grabs on to the sensation, embraces it.

There are spots dancing in front of his eyes; Avery's face blurs. In his peripheral vision, there's blackness, tunnel vision focusing on Avery, on what they're doing here. Ryley's hand is shaking as he raises it, holding on as long as he can, pulling the sensation into him.

His entire body feels alight, nerves tingling and crackling. The jerk of Avery's hips as he thrusts into him send sparks up his spine, little fireworks going off amidst the spots, the growing darkness.

When he can't take it any more, he taps Avery's hand, once, twice. Immediately Avery lifts it and Ryley's entire body convulses as he drags air back into his lungs.

The world has taken on a strange, saturated, overly bright hue compared to the dim coolness of asphyxia. Ryley squeezes his eyes shut to it and concentrates on breathing in, out, in again; on filling his aching lungs.

"Are you okay?" Avery murmurs; Ryley nods breathlessly.

"Again," he says as soon as he can draw enough breath to do so. Avery replaces his hand, and Ryley lets himself sink back into breathlessness, airlessness.

He had expected to die. Whether by drowning, or by the infection, or by being surrounded by hostile creatures that wanted to kill him, he had expected to breathe his last on that planet.

Quick and brutal, or slow and drawn out. Ryley had not expected survival, could not have guessed that only days after curing himself and shutting down the weapon, that his salvation would arrive in the form of the Sunbeam.

Avery was the oxygen his starving lungs had been craving the whole time he had been drowning.

This time, when he taps out, the explosion of air to his lungs is enough to leave him coughing, gasping. Avery stops his movements immediately, strokes Ryley's cheeks, his hair, one hand on his chest encouraging him to _breathe, just breathe_ like after a nightmare, like they're not entwined together and he hasn't just hand his hand over Ryley's mouth and nose.

But they are, and this is something of their own making; Ryley is dizzy with oxygen deprivation but he doesn't feel the crushing weight of the ocean like after a nightmare. He feels buoyant, like there are bubbles licking over his skin, a rushing in his ears like he's falling through air instead. Every square inch of skin feels alive; he can _feel_ Avery, feel the bed, feel his own body like he never has before.

"I'm okay," he breathes when he can, both to Avery and to himself. "I'm okay."

Avery nods, still stroking Ryley's hair. "I'm gonna need you to tell me verbally when to keep going," he says, sounding just a little strained himself. "Okay?"

"Okay," Ryley murmurs, opening his eyes. "Keep going. Please. Again, _please_ , I'm getting so close..."

Close to climax, yes, he can feel the tension in his body, how hard he is, how hard Avery is inside him, how every nerve feels lit up like bioluminescence.

Close to revelation, to breaking through trauma and fear, breaking through nearly drowning, nearly suffocating, this controlled drowning on dry land; he's close to that too, and Ryley lets out a shuddering gasp as Avery pulls his hips back then thrusts in again, covering his mouth and nose as he does.

He's plunged back in to dizzy euphoria, the instinctive panic as he struggles to draw breath and can't completely overwritten by trust. He's not half a kilometre deep, the water closing in on him. He's here, in the Sunbeam, with Avery; his life is in Avery's hands and he knows that he has nothing, _nothing_ to fear.

Ryley is alive. He survived, he's surviving, he will continue to survive. The press of Avery's hand against his mouth tells him that he's right here in the present, and that sweet, fresh air is only a tap of his fingers away.

His head is pounding. There are spots in front of his eyes, darkness approaching around the edges. His heart is racing, stuttering in his chest. Goosebumps have broken out over his skin. He can feel the sheets beneath his back and hips, the cool recycled air, feel Avery moving against him and inside him, feel the hand pressed against his face. His body feels like a spring, coiled and under pressure, about to snap back into shape.

He watches, watches Avery, the play of emotions across his face as the black grows until all he can see is him, until all he can hear is his blood screaming in his ears, and then he taps.

It's like a volcanic eruption, his body arching as he greedily and instinctively drags in air, hips jerking against Avery's at the force of twin climaxes. The sexual release, the rush of oxygen; the black is chased away so suddenly and so forcefully that the world around him suddenly seems white and bright. He can't cry out, can't vocalize the pleasure and release that's overwhelming him, just ride it out and breathe, breathe, breathe.

Avery is there, Avery stroking his chest and face, lying beside him (when had he even finished and pulled out?) and murmuring for him to breathe in, out, in again. Avery lifting Ryley into his lap, encouraging him to lean forward to breathe easier, rubbing his back and pressing kisses into his hair.

"Just breathe," Avery whispers, and Ryley does precisely that.

His heart is still racing. He feels dizzy, trembling, weak as a kitten. His throat feels raw.

But he's breathing. He had suffocated, drowned on dry land, and he was still breathing.

When he can move again, Ryley slumps back against Avery's chest and laughs breathlessly. "Thanks," he whispers, eyes closed, letting Avery support him.

Avery murmurs an acknowledgement, pressing the bottle of water from the nightstand into Ryley's hand, pulling the blankets back up over them both before Ryley even notices how hard he's shivering.

"Did it help?" Avery asks quietly.

Ryley makes an affirmative noise. "I can still breathe," he says, wonderingly, and lets himself settle in the protective circle of Avery's arms.

He sleeps, and he does not dream of drowning.

**Author's Note:**

> Breathplay can be very dangerous. If you're going to try it, be well aware of the risks and take every precaution, and never do it on your own.


End file.
